


Two Tickets to Paradise

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 15:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: "I hereby declare Doctor Samuel Beckett to be mentally insane."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1993. Printed in WHAM BAM THANK YOU SAM #2

"I hereby declare Doctor Samuel Beckett to be mentally insane."

As leap-ins went, this one wasn't starting off on a very good note. In fact, I was more confused than I'd ever been in my life.

_Hey, wait a minute! I just got here. What's going on?_

That couldn't have been my own name I heard...

The voice continued in unrelenting, even tones. "...and order that he be placed in Merryweather Rest Facility, where he can receive adequate treatment."

Rest facility. Another name for... _looney bin_. "No..." I protested weakly. Visions swam in front of me, images I couldn't fit names to, but they sent terror cascading over me.

_This really can't be happening..._

There were two very large and stern-looking men on each side of me, holding my arms gently but firmly. "I'm not crazy!" I wailed as they started to lead me away. I fought an instinctive urge to struggle, knowing it wouldn't help my case any. "There's been some mistake, you've got to listen to me!"

Glancing around frantically for escape, I saw something that made me weak with relief. Al was standing there, in his white dress uniform, looking forlorn and lost.

"Al!" I yelled, "help me!"

To my utter astonishment, Al turned away. Turned his back on me, ignoring my pleas.

I did start struggling then, too panicked to care. "Al!" I screamed, "Please help me...don't let them do this!" But the white-clothed back was cold, unmoving. Tears burned down my cheeks as they led me, kicking and screaming Al's name, from the room.

**AL** :

It was a waking nightmare, worse than those endless days in the Tiger cage. To watch them take Sam away from me, forever, was too much to bear. I couldn't watch them escort Joe Staple--the guy from the Waiting Room that Sam had leaped into--out of the room. I had to turn my back. I even imagined I could hear Sam calling my name, begging me to help him. I held in the shudders that wanted to rack my frame. I wouldn't fall apart in front of them.

And now, I'd have to go back to the Project, into the Imaging Chamber and tell Sam he was going to be stuck in this leap forever. That within the week the Project would be shut down and we'd lose contact. Forever.

Where would I find the strength to face him with that? I'd failed him. How could I live with it?

I'd lived with the possibility of them cutting off our funding ever since Sam's first leap, always somehow convincing them to give us just one more year. Then, with Diane McBride on the committee, things had eased up. I knew with her retirement, I'd have to start battling my own windmills again, but I never suspected this...

Senator Billings had always been the main horse's rear of the committee. He never believed Sam was really traveling through time, and he was very vocal with his opinions. The rest of the committee didn't like him much, either, so he was never more than an annoyance.

Until the day they all showed up at Stallion's Gate.

Unannounced, just waltzed right into the Project and demanded proof of Sam's time-traveling. That I could have handled, but Billings somehow bullied his way past a guard and into the Waiting Room. Sure, I explained how quantum leaping works. But seeing a confused, frightened person looking exactly like Sam and insisting he was someone else, helped Billings plant the idea in the others' heads that maybe it really was Sam, that he was insane and I was cashing in on the poor guy's sickness.

The broken nose Billings got for that wasn't even much satisfaction.

Then, damn them, they decided I'd have to let them all into the Imaging Chamber at the same time, to circumvent any duplicity. To them it was a reasonable request, and I understood...up to a point. They refused to listen when Gooshie and I tried to make them understand that the I.C. was designed for one person, two tops, and couldn't take that kind of a power drain.

And it didn't. The minute we tried, we had an overload. For just the barest of a split second, we were in 1954 with Sam, then, firmly back in the cavern again. The ball rolled faster after that. They wouldn't wait for us to get the Chamber back on-line. They spirited the guy in the Waiting Room, poor fella, away to the new government psychiatric center hidden in the Sandia Mountains outside of Albuquerque, for evaluation. They wouldn't even let Verbena accompany him, our entire inner staff was now under suspicion.

There was nothing I could do, they'd caught me off guard. Before I knew what was happening...it was over.

I shut my heart to the cries my soul was hearing and after he was gone, I glared at them once, then left the room.

XXX

I let myself into the hotel room, feeling one hundred years old. I'd almost stopped off in the lounge for a drink...and the only reason I didn't was because I knew it wouldn't even begin to take away the pain I was feeling.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair and sat down on the bed. Reaching for the phone, I punched in the number automatically without looking, my eyes gazing blankly at the framed pictures above the bed. They were prints of flowers. One was an orange Bird of Paradise, the other, white Calla lilies. Beth's flower.

Bird of Paradise was Sam's favorite, I remembered suddenly, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. When I opened them again, my present and my past were still staring at me from a cold, impersonal hotel wall. The future, like the space between them, was blank.

"Gooshie?" I said tiredly, when our programmer came on, sounding as frazzled as always, but more nervous than usual. "How's everything there?"

The pause before he spoke tightened my insides. "Ziggy says Sam leaped."

Pain, lancing through me again. I rested my forehead against the bed's cool brass headboard. I wouldn't even be able to explain, to say goodbye.

Then I realized the implications of what Gooshie had said. "What do you mean, Sam leaped? He can't leap when there's no one in the Waiting Room!"

"Ziggy says he did."

The memory, flooding back; the impossible made real... _Sam_ , as they were taking him away, begging me to help him...

_Oh God, it wasn't my imagination!_

"What time?" I barked.

"Two this afternoon. I tried to contact you right away, but I guess you were still in the meeting."

I sagged back in the bed. "What have I done?" I whispered.

"What did you say, Admiral?"

"I'll talk to you later, Gooshie," I said distractedly, letting the reciever fall back into its cradle. Jumping up, I quickly changed out of my Navy whites into more appropriate clothing, and threw on a jacket.

"Hang on, Sam," I told the Bird of Paradise as I ran out the door.

XXX

"What do you mean I can't see him?!" I demanded to the pinch-faced nurse at the desk, wishing I'd left my uniform on for intimidating purposes.

"Well," she said with infuriating patience and indifference, "even if it were visiting hours, which it isn't," she looked pointedly at the clock, "we've been specifically instructed not to allow any visitors...especially if that any is Admiral Calavicci. He's being transferred to Merryweather in the morning, I'm sure you'll be able to visit him there." I swear she hadn't taken a breath through the whole speech.

"You can't do that!" I insisted, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. I know women; this one wasn't going to budge.

"Listen, I only work here so if you don't like it, take it up with the doctor in charge. Tomorrow morning."

A good soldier knows when to retreat. I didn't want to arouse any suspicions by drawing further attention to myself. "You can bet I will," I blustered for her benefit, turned and marched stridently to the door.

Outside and out of sight, I sagged against the wall. Reviewing our options did nothing for my spirits. Ironically, now that Sam was back home, they'd never believe he'd been traveling in time. Our only proof, him actually in the past, was gone. I hurt for him, knowing how it would most likely turn out for the Project, but the important thing now was Sam. Not his dream, but his life.

There was only one thing left to do.

I should have just sneaked in in the first place, but I hadn't realized how bad things were. No, I didn't want to accept how bad they were. Besides, I was so anxious to see Sam and reassure him...oh god...let him know that even though it looked like it, his best friend hadn't really deserted him to the wolves and the madness.

XXX

I knew it was wrong, and going to get me in a mess of trouble. I reminded myself that as I crept along the dark, silent hallway. I should have gone through proper channels, used my clout and pulled some strings, called in some favors. Except, even if it was a sure thing--which it wasn't--I couldn't let Sam stay in that place another minute. Memories of his leap at Havenwell were burned into my mind. I knew how Sam would handle being back in a mental institution. There was even a chance he'd...I clamped down on that thought. Even though Beeks had believed Sam's mental breakdown was from the stress of leaping and only triggered by the electroshock, I knew it was just the shock treatment that had caused him to lose himself.

Wasn't it?

And down that route lay madness. Better to concentrate on immediate matters. A careful warrior doesn't let himself get distracted while on the battlefield.

The main problem wasn't getting inside, it was figuring out which room was Sam's. Luckily, in our wonderfully democratic society, money talks. It was fairly easy to bribe the night orderly for the information--especially after I appealed to his patriotic duty--not to mention his boredom and love of spy novels. A good soldier also has to be able to quickly assess the situation. When I saw the dog-eared paperback lying open on the desk, I knew his weakness. Once I convinced him I was on a top secret mission, he was only too happy to help.

I paused at Sam's door, almost afraid to go inside. Was I afraid of facing him? Or afraid of what I might find? I pushed the door open resolutely.

It was dark inside, only the faint light from the parking lot coming in through the bars on the window.

_He's not gonna be too happy about this..._ For a moment I was back in the Imaging Chamber again, ready to face Sam's bitching about taking too long to get there, and demanding the reason for the leap... I shook myself and closed the door behind me. It was weirdly like a flashback, but hell, Sam was the one who'd been in battle this time.

Sam was curled into a ball, facing the window. My heart broke at the sight of him, in a place like this again, where he didn't belong. A place that could break his spirit so easily. "Oh, Sam..." I murmured, moving closer. The body on the bed stiffened infinitesimally; otherwise, there was no response. "Sam?" I said, louder, walking around in front of him.

"What do you want?" barely a whisper, devoid of emotion. I'd never heard his voice sound like that, missing its usual animation. They say you can tell a person's feelings from their eyes; with Sam, you could tell by his voice, too.

"Stupid question," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"You let them take me away." Finally, there was emotion in his voice, and I wished to have the monotone back. It was full of pain, confusion...and betrayal.

I felt a little piece of my soul break off and fall onto the floor. I opened my mouth; for a moment, nothing came out. "I'm sorry..." I finally managed. "I...I didn't know it was you..."

"I called to you."

Another piece clattered onto the white linoleum. "I didn't hear you." Over the sound of my own misery...

"I screamed for you to help me!" he was finally sitting up in bed, his voice rising.

I gritted my teeth to bury my own emotions, moving closer and holding out my hands in supplication, and as warning to keep his voice low. "We can talk about this later. The important thing now is to get you out of here."

For the first time, he met my eyes, and I saw something in his I never thought I'd see coming from Sam. Something I hadn't even seen on his first leap when he didn't remember me...the beginning of doubt and distrust.

I grabbed him roughly by the forearms. "Listen to me," I hissed. "After all we've been through...there was nothing I could do, dammit, I tried. And I'm here now. I'm not always prompt, but I'm always _here_. Aren't I?" I implored, gazing into his eyes.

After an endless moment, I felt the change, the lessening of tension. "Why do you have to break me out?" Sam asked. His mind was working now, seeing past the pain.

"It's a long story, and one I'd rather tell somewhere else, okay? Before the meter expires on the bribe." I was practically jumping up and down, anxious to be gone.

Sam scrambled out of bed, finally getting the picture. "I don't know where they put my clothes."

I threw him my jacket and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the door. "We'll buy you more. I'll take you shopping, help you pick them out. Something fashionable, with style..." Nerves were making me ramble, but once the door was eased open, I fell silent.

After making sure no one was in the hall, we hurried toward the door. My friendly orderly watched us from the desk with a glint of excitement in his eyes. I gave him a conspiratorial wink as we dashed out the door.

I finally breathed again when we were safely inside my car and putting swift distance between us and that place. Something told me they'd expect us to head south towards the Project, it would be the first place they'd look. So I was heading east on 40, with a vague idea of destination floating in my mind.

It was also when Sam broke the mutual silence. I wasn't sure our lack of conversation was due to nervous attention on escaping or something else entirely, and I didn't particularly want to know. There'd be time enough for all that nasty stuff later.

"You sure the orderly won't report this?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry about him, he thinks he's a deputized special agent for the government. But when tomorrow comes and they find you gone..."

"Al, what's going on?" The tone of Sam's voice caused me to sneak a glance at him. His hands were bunched in his lap in a nervous gesture, his knees drawn up protectively.

I really didn't want to get into it right then, when so much of my concentration had to be on driving. Truth be told, cruising down the soothing, dark highway was a temporary respite that I selfishly refused to give up just yet. "Soon," I said simply.

There was nothing else to talk about, so we didn't.

After about an hour, I felt secure enough to stop for awhile. We'd be in the plains before long, we were nearly to Santa Rosa already. I pulled into a rest area and cut the engine, turning in my seat. "Okay, here it is--"

"I gotta pee first," Sam explained apologetically, getting out of the car.

"Wait a sec," I told him, climbing out and rummaging around in the trunk. "Here," I handed him an overnight bag. "It won't be a perfect fit, but it'll do for now."

Sam took the bag from me, looking thoughtful. "Did you plan this out that carefully, or do you really carry extra clothes in your car?"

It felt good to smile. "A ladies' man always carries a spare change of clothes. You never know..."

He shook his head with a hint of his old tolerant amusement, and started for the bathroom.

As I waited for Sam, I tried to marshal my thoughts, rehearse what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. Unfortunately, when he was finished and back in the car again, I wasn't any closer to a solution--a plan--or even an approach.

Sam wasn't going to be pleased.

"Okay," he began, all business but looking comically cute in my lavender shirt and forest-green pants. I couldn't help grinning, and he noticed. "Don't say a word," he warned, "except to tell me what's going on."

"Sounds like a leap," I mused with surprised nostalgia. "I wish it was that simple," I added, rubbing my face with my hands and watching Sam from between my fingers. He looked worried. I reached out a hand, placed it on his shoulder and squeezed. Solid shoulder, no hologram to pass through. I left it there. "It started when the whole damned committee showed up unannounced at the Project, and insisted on personally touring the Imaging Chamber--together."

"Together, as in at the same time?" I nodded sadly. "It wasn't built to withstand that kind of strain!"

"You think I don't know that? Billings instigated the whole thing, the nozzle! They wouldn't listen to reason, woulda shut us down on the spot if we didn't cooperate. We had no choice Sam, believe me."

"And the system overloaded."

"The instant we tried to establish contact. They took it as proof the whole thing was a hoax. That the guy in the Waiting Room was really you, suffering from a mental breakdown, and we were covering it up."

"Who's we?" Sam asked, nervously picking at a hanging thread on my shirt. I resisted the urge to slap his hand.

"The inner staff. Me, Gooshie, Verbena, Tina. We're all under investigation."

Sam was silent for a few minutes, still worrying the thread loose. Then he realized what he was doing and pulled his hand away, giving me a sheepish look. "So what are we going to do, Al?"

"I wish I knew."

I stared at him and he at me, disbelievingly. The feeling I'd let him down returned to gnaw at my gut. "I was so worried about getting you out..." I explained for what felt like the millionth time. Maybe because I'd been doing a lot of it to myself.

Sam's face fell, almost infinitesimally, but I caught it. I was the answer man, his crutch for five years. When he couldn't do something on his own, I was there, pulling the solution out of the air like a magician. And he didn't just depend on it, he demanded it.

I tried my trusty last resorts...optimism and placating. "Hey, at least you're home, thank God He didn't leave you stranded out there."

"Maybe it's a leap, and I'm here to save PQL."

"Maybe He just knew the gravy train had ended," I countered. "Besides, we have a more pressing problem, buddy. As of now, you're an escapee from a mental institution, and I'm guilty of kidnapping you."

Sam was silent for a moment...a long one. "I'm hungry," he finally said in a small voice. "I can't think on an empty stomach."

I patted his arm reassuringly. "Let's just...put some more space between us and that place. They won't notice you missing till morning, maybe by then we'll have thought of a way out of this mess."

"Maybe," Sam echoed doubtfully, glancing at the miles of nothing around us.

"I do have a partial plan," I was pleased to inform him. "I think I know a place where we can buy some time to rest and figure this whole thing out."

"You think?"

_Trust me..._ the words were almost out of my mouth before I clamped down on them. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the look of betrayal in Sam's face at the hospital. The loss of a trust that was as necessary to me as breathing. It was there between us, only partially dormant. Subtle, subliminal, but as in-tune as the two of us were, I could feel it nonetheless.

I was afraid to hear his answer.

After Sam was fed he dozed off, head pillowed against the window with his rolled-up hospital gown. I glanced at his shadowy profile periodically. Even with his hair a mess and five o'clock stubble on his face, he looked boyish and content in dreamland. With the peaceful cocoon of the New Mexico night surrounding us, I began to hope it was only some tranquilizer they'd given him affecting his emotions. That after a good night's sleep, things would be normal between us again. I smoothed his hair back into some semblance of order.

Even guardian angels have their dreams.

Sam woke up once, when we were at the junction of 84 and 60. I could feel the change in the air, from peace to discord, like striking the wrong harsh note in a piano concerto. He sat up, peering around sleepily.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asked with tired crossness, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

"An oasis in the desert," I told him, gesturing with grand expansiveness.

"An oasis?" Sam echoed bemusedly. Then he shifted restlessly, uneasily.

"Have a bad dream?" I asked quietly.

I felt him staring at me in surprise, didn't need the verbal answer. "Sorta," he answered vaguely.

I reached out, putting my arm around Sam's shoulder and encouraging him to lean against my side. After a slight, silent resistance, he sighed and settled close. "You must be tired, you want me to take over for awhile?" he asked, barely finishing the sentence before he was fast asleep again.

**SAM** :

I woke up abruptly. One of those cases where you're sound asleep one moment and wide-awake the next. Well, mostly awake. I yawned and tried to stretch out my long frame, stiff from sleeping in the cramped sports car.

At least there hadn't been any dreams this time.

I fleetingly wondered why I wasn't more excited about being home, but it didn't take much to figure it out. There was nothing about the situation--besides being able to touch Al--that reminded me of anything other than a typical leap into the middle of a huge mess. Only this time I felt too tired to straighten it out and save the day.

Listless and apathetic, I gazed out the window, wondering how long I'd been asleep. We were no longer on the highway...for that matter, what we were driving on was little more than a dirt path in the middle of nowhere. It was still too dark to make out our surroundings, and the only light anywhere came from the car's headlights.

"This is our oasis?" I asked Al.

"We're almost there," he told me shortly, his concentration on navigating the car through the black night and rough terrain.

"Where's there?" I asked, as a small light came into sight, and the road smoothed out some.

"We're about forty-five miles from the Texas border. An old... friend of mine lives out here, one who owes me a favor. The nearest town is a dump called Floyd, ten miles or so. There's an Air Force Base not far, but I think we'll be safe here."

"Cannon Air Force Base?" I asked, beginning to get my bearings. It almost--but not quite--eased the feeling of instability I'd felt since leaping...home.

"Yeah."

I could now see that the light came from the window of a small, ranch-style home squat in the middle of nothing. When we pulled up in front of the house, a motion-sensor spotlight came on, almost blinding us. Al cut the motor and got out of the car, and I followed him, a bit hesitantly, up to the porch door.

"I hope it's a big favor," I murmured to myself. "You think your friend will mind us barging in in the middle of the night?" I asked as Al rang the doorbell.

"It's almost four," he said, as if that explained everything.

A bright light came on inside, and a moment later the door opened. Of course, I berated myself, I should have known: she was a striking Auburn-haired woman with dark blue eyes. She was also wearing a bathrobe and carrying a shotgun loosely in the crook of her arm.

Her eyes opened wider and her mouth dropped in surprise. "Albert Calavicci!" she exclaimed, hugging him, shotgun and all.

Al returned her greeting as enthusiastically. "Charlotte, it's great to see you again!"

"C'mon in," she said, pulling him inside.

"Friend, huh?" I mumbled in an aside to Al, following.

"This is my partner, Sam Beckett," Al paused from his reunion and gestured toward me. "Sam, this is Charlotte Faye."

"Hi Sam, it's nice to meet you," she said warmly, shaking my hand. Over the years, I've developed my skill at assessing people quickly. A necessity of leaping. Charlotte exuded an honest friendliness, and I instinctively liked her. She was different from most of Al's women, older, for one thing, not some twenty-year-old bleach blonde bimbo. Charlotte was more in a class with Ruth.

"Sorry to bother you at this hour," I apologized, feeling the awkwardness of barging in on a stranger.

"Nonsense, I'd be getting up in a half hour anyway. Can I get you some coffee?" she asked. "I always set the timer a little early, just in case. It should be ready."

"That'd be great," Al told her. "I could really use a cup."

Charlotte took us into the kitchen, and the three of us sat down at the butcher-block table. It was a warm, comfortable kitchen. The cabinets were a rich mahogany, and the curtains and rugs matching yellow with big, bright orange flowers. Fully equipped with every modern appliance, it also held an antique butter churn, and cast iron pots and pans hung from hooks on the wall.

It's been a long time, but you haven't changed," Al told Charlotte as we sat drinking our coffee. It wasn't the lady-killer charm I was used to seeing from him, it was more natural. And more deadly, I realized, watching in fascination.

"Neither have you...but it hasn't been that long," Charlotte pointed out with a smile which said he'd scored a point.

"Too long," Al said, quietly, and I wondered again what their relationship had been.

"But you didn't come all the way out here to talk about old times. What's wrong?" she asked, her face saying she knew it was serious.

"We're in...some trouble," Al admitted. "I hate to involve you in it, but we're desperate."

Charlotte covered his hand with both of hers. "What do you need?" Oddly enough, that feeling of like I had was tinged with a slight... discomfort, I didn't know why. If Al trusted her...

"A place to rest for a few days, love. We won't be staying long. Just long enough to think of a way out of this mess we're in."

"You want to stay in the trailer?" At Al's nod, she immediately took charge of the situation. "Have you been driving all night?" Before either of us could answer, she was hustling us out of the house.

Al pulled the car out of sight around the back, and we covered it with a tarp. Then Charlotte led us to the trailer which was settled about twenty-seven meters from the house.

"I call it the guest trailer," Charlotte explained. "It's not much, but it should do. We lived in here before my late husband Jerry built the house. We did our own modifications." She turned on the light as we stepped inside. "There's only one bed, but the kitchen and bathroom function. There should be some spare clothes in the dresser that'll do if you need them." She closed the curtains on the window over the bed. "It'll be getting hot soon, but Jerry insulated with some stuff he invented, so it stays pretty cool with the curtains drawn."

"Thank you," I said sincerely, feeling like an outsider in the conversation, and wanting to contribute something.

"Anything for Al," Charlotte replied, throwing a secretive smile in his direction. "You two must be tired, so I'll leave you to get some rest. I'll be going to work soon, be home around three."

Al grabbed her arm as she passed, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You're the greatest. And Char--I don't think anyone knows about you, but just in case...you haven't heard from me in years."

"Got it."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but I'm really curious," I began, before she could leave. "What do you owe Al?"

"Nothing," he said, dismissively.

Charlotte slipped an arm around his waist and grinned at him fondly. "Al helped me get my job here. Work isn't real abundant around these parts, and if he hadn't helped, I would have had to move nearer to a city. This is the land my husband and I worked and fought for, the house we built. I didn't want to leave."

I nodded in empathy. "Where do you work?"

"I'm a park ranger for Oasis State Park."

"Oasis!" I exclaimed with a glance at Al, understanding.

_Oasis in the desert._

**AL** :

I watched Charlotte leave, a nostalgia filling me, for a time when things seemed simpler. They weren't, not by a long shot, but the full impact of my immediate future hadn't yet settled over me. I was still optimistic in those days, riding high on dreams come true and the certain knowledge that Sam would be home soon.

That was four and a half years ago.

Sam was home now. But instead of celebrating, we were on the run and over our heads. I wondered if some things would ever change.

"How come I haven't heard about Charlotte before?" Sam broke into my thoughts to ask curiously.

"I started dating her after you started leaping," I explained. "It didn't last long, but whatever attracted us to each other so strongly in the first place, kept us close friends."

"What did attract you?"

I shrugged. "Neither of us could let go of our spouses, I guess. It's been a long night, let's get some sleep. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

Sam pulled back the blanket and was about to dive in head first, when my bleary eyes focused on him. "You're not gonna sleep in my good clothes!" I demanded.

Sam shrugged and took off the clothing methodically, folding each garment and hanging them neatly on the back of a chair. When he was completely finished with the exaggerated ritual and every stitch was on the chair, he started to climb into bed.

"I'm not sleeping with you naked," I informed him indignantly. We were both tired and grouchy, but I didn't think it was an unreasonable request. "Put your underwear on, at least," I pointed to the bag that held the clothes he'd had on at the hospital.

Sam regarded the bag with disdain. "First of all, it's not _my_ underwear, and second -- I'm not wearing those 'Fruit of the Loons' another minute!"

"Okay, okay," I said tiredly, conceding his point. "Didn't Charlotte say something about extra clothing? Maybe we can find something to sleep in."

A quick search in the dresser turned up a couple of pairs of pajamas. Charlotte's husband had been a big man. They were large on Sam, but rolled up suited him okay. I swam in them. Far from my usual fashion statement, but I was too tired to care. Sam, to his credit, didn't even crack a smile in retaliation for my earlier amusement at seeing him in my clothes. Although it was most likely exhaustion. And speaking of exhaustion...

All I remember after that was putting my head down on the pillow...

**END CHAPTER ONE**


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's voice, calling to me, pleading with me. I could hear the fear in his voice, but I couldn't see him. I reached out desperately, trying to answer...but to no avail. I was immobile, unable to do anything except listen, as he begged me to help him. My worst nightmare...

"Al...please, don't let them take me away!"

At first, I thought it was my nightmare. Then, as awareness returned and my eyes opened to the sunlight peeking around orange curtains, I realized it was Sam who was dreaming.

For a moment, all I could do was lie there and listen to his pitiful pleas.

"Al...don't leave me! Al..." his voice trailed off mournfully. As if he'd given up, knew I wasn't coming.

I reached out a trembling hand, laying it on his shoulder and shaking him gently. It was a warm shoulder, substantial. "Sam... Sam, wake up. Please."

Sam woke up with a start, breathing hard. "Al?" he finally asked into the darkness, as if afraid to turn his head and find out he was wrong.

"It's okay, kid. It was just a bad dream."

"Sorry I woke you," he said in a low voice.

"You can wake me any time you want," I assured. "Any time you need." We were both silent for awhile, but it felt uncomfortable. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Did ya ever have a nightmare when you were a kid?" Sam asked, almost conversationally.

"Who didn't?"

"Then thought monsters were hiding in your closets, waiting to come out and eat you?" he said as if reminiscing.

"Too much soda pop and knishes used to do it to me every time."

"Mom would come in and tell me a happy story, she said it chased the monsters away. Then she'd stay with me until I fell asleep..." His voice dropped to a stricken whisper, a hint of tears. "But when _you_ woke up, you were all alone... I'm sorry, Al."

I wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, so I decided to ignore it. "Was there a monster in your dream, Sam?" I found myself asking, wondering if my question was as innocent as it sounded.

"There wasn't anyone in my dream." Which said it all. "I know how you felt," he murmured.

Was he talking about the years of leaping through time, alone, or the reality he woke up to, crying for help and watching me turn away? "Do you still trust me, Sam?" I asked bluntly.

He sighed. "It's like breathing, I have to."

I closed my eyes in relief.

"I'll never leave you alone, if you never leave me alone."

I did the only thing I knew to do. I reached out in the space between us, and he met me halfway. Our fingers entwined.

"We slay the monsters together, Sam. You and me. Promise."

Our conversation seemed like the scattered pieces of a puzzle, several missing; yet so much was said in those few sentences. More than I knew, more than I wanted to.

I didn't realize it at the time, of course, but I'd just carved my future in stone.

**SAM** :

When we finally woke, we went into the house to scavenge something to eat. I felt uncomfortable rummaging around in someone elses' house... which I should have gotten used to after all those years of leaping into stranger's lives. Al had no such compunction. I watched him move around the kitchen with a familiarity I found slightly annoying, so I left him preparing the submarine sandwiches and iced tea, and went outside to wait. I needed the fresh air, to dispel the feeling that the walls were closing in on me.

The dream had brought back feelings I'd tried to forget. Intellectually, I knew Al would never do anything to hurt me. He was human too, and it was just an unfortunate accident...but emotionally, it hurt. When Al had turned and walked away...it shook me to my roots, shook up my whole world. I knew that to hold it against him wouldn't be fair. He was the best friend anyone could ever want, loyal to a fault.

And he was hurting over it, too.

Al didn't deserve my distrust. Could I overcome my emotional reactions?

Then there was the other part. Coming out of the dream and still feeling the unreasonable fear, I'd recalled my mother's comfort fondly...only to have another picture intrude. An image of Al as a young boy, waking up from a nightmare, alone, without anyone who cared. Somehow, that was all tied up with the other feelings, but I'd be damned if I could figure out the connection.

We had lunch on the patio, watching the Air Force planes above. They were apparently training new pilots, and Al kept up a running dialogue by exaggerating mistakes and inventing imaginative conversations between the fliers. He had me in stitches, and I guess that's what he intended.

However, we couldn't avoid the problem forever.

"So what are we gonna do, Al?" I finally broached the subject he seemed all too willing to ignore. "How do we convince them I was really leaping?"

Al grimaced. "I don't know. I _do_ know the minute we show our faces, I'll be arrested and you locked up."

"Don't we have _anyone_ on our side? Can't you pull a few favors or something?

"Maybe. But that means going through channels. Which means me cooling my heels in jail and you being sent to Merryweather, while the wheels of justice squeakily turn."

A shiver slipped out. I can't go back to a place like that...I think I'd die first...

"This last fiasco made Billings pretty convincing, Sam. The government thinks they've been played for fools, and they're not happy."

"What about the Navy?"

"I disobeyed orders, broke several laws, kidnapped exhibit A in a government investigation and went AWOL with him. I don't think they like either of us very much right now. Even if they did believe us, they'd probably court-martial me anyway."

"I'm sorry," I murmured, feeling guilty for asking so much of Al.

He waved it away. "My military career is not the issue here."

"There's got to be some way, Al," I said, jumping up in frustration, with the situation and the defeatist way he was approaching it. "You pulled off the miracle of getting us the Project, surely this can't be so hard!" I turned to lock gazes with him.

"Quit looking at me like that! You always expect me to fix everything, like a magician. Well sometimes I don't have all the fucking answers, goddammit. Sometimes I don't have _any_ answers!"

I stared at Al. I could tell he was as surprised by his outburst as I was; Al's language usually consists of colorful euphemisms, rather than outright profanity. I sighed. "Look, I'm--"

"I'm sorry too," he cut me off. "But you gotta work with me here, Sam, I can't do it alone."

"Have I given you that idea?" I asked quietly.

Al sighed heavily. "Hell, this thing is getting to me, too. Let's just chill out for a day or so, maybe we'll be able to think clearer."

_The longer we wait, the harder it will be to rectify the situation..._ The more pieces the remains of my Project would be in. "Yeah," I said, keeping my thoughts to myself.

"Hey..." Al got up and came over to me. "There's something we forgot to do."

"What's that?" I could tell it wasn't going to be anything important or helpful.

"This," he said, and pulled me close for a tight hug. "Welcome home, Sam," he whispered in my ear.

_Maybe I was wrong..._ I thought, feeling like a heel. "More or less," I noted, shoving my self-recriminations aside. "I'm not leaping anymore, but I still can't get home," I added wryly.

"Home," Al said, oddly, then picked up the dishes and went into the house without another word.

**AL** :

I busied myself washing the plates and glasses we'd used for lunch, and some dishes Char had left in the sink while I was at it. All my marriages had me well trained; I was an expert at KP. It didn't help me not to think, but at least it gave me some time away from Sam.

I was fighting a losing battle, with Sam, the situation, and myself. Now that he was home, safe, all I wanted to do was keep him that way. Unfortunately, Sam wasn't going to go down without a fight. I had to be honest with myself and admit that ever since I broke him out of the hospital, all I'd wanted to do was go somewhere safe and start over. Put the whole mess behind us. Start a new life.

Permanently.

Hell, I was tired...and I was entitled. It had been a long five years, an even longer lifetime of struggles. I wanted to retire from the rat race, live in peace in a place without pain, loss or sorrow.

But I couldn't retire from Sam Beckett.

**SAM** :

After Charlotte came home from work, I wandered around outside while the two of them caught up on old times. They didn't actually ask me to leave, but anyone could tell they wanted to be alone. It was a huge reduction in activity from the crazy pace of leaping and, unfortunately, just left me with time to think that produced no answers. There had to be one, though. I'm one of those people who believes there's _always_ an answer, whether you can easily see it or not.

So maybe I was trying too hard. Maybe Al was right, a few days of rest would make everything clearer. The only problem was, I wasn't sure I knew how to relax anymore. Al would say I never did, I thought as I listened to the sounds of laughter coming from the house. This was worse than leaping. I felt like a prisoner in my own life.

But it was better than being a prisoner in a mental institution.

I glanced toward the back door in annoyance when a fresh burst of laughter floated out, then tried to swallow the reaction. I was uptight, on edge with a perfect right to be. Still, taking it out on Al and his girlfriend wouldn't solve anything.

Why did I have such an overpowering urge to do just that?

I stared at the door, prodding my feelings carefully. I could have stayed inside and joined in the conversation; it would have filled me in on a little of what I'd missed while leaping. Instead, I chose to sit outside, feeling...neglected? I was startled by the notion. Analyzing it carefully, I decided maybe I was spoiled. While Al was in the Imaging Chamber I had his undivided attention, my problems were his only concern, or so it seemed to me. But here, in the real world, he had his own life.

I abruptly cut off my self-analysis before it got any more complicated. _And having all this time on my hands with nothing to do but think isn't good. I'm starting to sound like Beeks!_

The screen door slammed, putting an emphatic ending to my musings. I knew it was Al without turning around to look; a weird realization.

"What are you doing sitting out here by yourself?" Al asked, coming up behind me and grabbing me by the shoulders for a brief squeeze. It was so good to be able to feel his touch...I didn't want him to let go. "You think too much," he said as he released me, startling me into gaping at him for knowing my thoughts. I should have been used to it.

_Thank god he can't read my mind any more specifically..._ Although I had to admit, I wondered what he'd have had to say about it.

"Did I ever tell you what an annoying person you are?" I said mildly. "You're either sneaking up on me, or reading my mind, or doing something else equally annoying."

"Is there anything I do that doesn't annoy you?" he asked.

"Can't think of a one," I answered, smiling to let him know I wasn't serious.

He rewarded me with a friendly arm around my shoulders. "That's because you're an ornery son-of-a-bitch, Beckett."

"Have we always whispered these sweet nothings to each other?" I asked, making him laugh.

Al grabbed me by each shoulder again and whispered into my ear in a silky, seductive voice, his breath tickling slightly. "Ti amo, mio scoiattolino..."

"What does that mean?" I finally managed to ask, not sure I wanted to know. It would certainly be at odds with the way he said it. The way he said it...that sent odd little shivers down my spine and made me sigh in relief when he let me go and collapsed into the chair next to me.

"My little squirrel," he supplied with a smirk.

"As in nuts? There's a fine line between genius and madness," I said, determined not to let Al gain the upper hand.

And, suddenly, we both remembered my most recent unpleasant experiences with madness.

"You're not crazy, and don't you ever think that!" Al said with such vehemence, I flinched.

"I don't," I said quietly. "I'm as sane as you are."

It broke the tension. Al looked at me with raised eyebrows and a glint in his eye...but whatever quip he was about to make was cut off by the screen door opening.

I jumped at the sound, a nagging feeling of resentment at the intrusion tugging in the back of my mind. I pushed it down ruthlessly and turned to see Charlotte walking out with a tray of meat, several dishes, utensils and condiments, all balanced in her arms.

"I thought we'd have a barbecue for dinner," she said as Al gallantly went to her rescue, taking some of the burden off her hands.

Something perverse in me made me stay firmly in my seat.

But all things fade. As the afternoon gave way to evening, patio lights shaped like chili peppers and farolitos replaced sunlight, casting an atmospheric glow. Pleasant company and low music in the background soothed even my pent-up nerves. I decided I might even be relaxing a little.

It was good to be in the same time as Al again, watching him do something as mundane as grilling steaks as if it was one of the wonders of the world. Knowing if I reached out...he wasn't just air, a phantom. He was real.

I'd wondered sometimes, in my more bleak moments, wallowing over the concept that maybe he was only a hologram created by Ziggy to make things easier on me during the leaping and not a real person.

_How could I have taken any of this for granted?_

The familiar sounds and smells of home were like an old friend to welcome me back. The faint smell of pinon on the wind, the coyotes in the distance. The music blending with nature until they were one.

"The music is beautiful," I said to Charlotte, determined to make an effort at friendliness. "What is it?"

"Kitaro, Silk Road."

"I should have known," I berated myself, "Kitaro was about all I listened to while I was in martial arts training."

"And while we were building our project, all he listened to was Man of La Mancha," Al put in. "The man can get down-right obsessed sometimes. Did I say _sometimes_?" he added when I opened my mouth to protest. "You want the chicken on too, Char? There's only two steaks here."

"The chicken's for me, those steaks are for you guys," Charlotte told Al, pulling up a lawn chair next to his. "Steak is a 'man thing', isn't it? Why is that?" she asked with mild, teasing curiosity.

"Because tough guys don't eat quiche," Al told her with his lady-killer grin.

"Speaking of quiche, have you ever tasted the broccoli quiche Al makes?" I couldn't help putting in wickedly. "It's delicious."

Al only grinned widely. "I said real men don't _eat_ quiche," he pointed out with a wink at me. "I didn't say they don't cook it."

I couldn't think of a suitable response, so I just glared at him.

"You really stepped into that one," Al said with a laugh. "Gave it to me on a silver platter."

"You guys are too much," Charlotte announced, chuckling.

I was beginning to feel like I'd leaped into a yo-yo. After we'd eaten, split a bottle of wine and talked until pretty late, I found myself with a sense of discontent again. I was in New Mexico, in my own time, but I wasn't home. And home wasn't like it was supposed to be.

And I wasn't making much sense, either. So I bid goodnight to Al and Charlotte...neither of whom showed any signs of turning in any time soon, and went to bed.

XXX

I jumped up abruptly, Al's name on my lips and having no idea whether I actually yelled out or not. The dream again. It was still dark, the clock read four a.m. A glance next to me told me Al wasn't in bed, although the patio lights were out and the air silent.

I should have expected it. Hell, it was SOP. So why did it annoy me so much?

I punched the pillow and tried to go back to sleep. No such luck for me. I briefly thought of what was going on in the house. That made me feel sorry for myself. Even on the run, unable to go home, Al had someone to hold him close. All I had were nightmares for company.

I remembered the leaping, how sometimes I'd feel like screaming with the need for someone to be able to touch me, to reach inside my soul and take away the loneliness. My identity was held on a fragile thread, sometimes it felt like my sanity, too. The only person who held the thread had been decades in the future.

But he was here, now. Did he still hold the thread?

_I wouldn't be having these weird thoughts if Al were here..._

XXX

By the time Al waltzed in the next morning, I was in a pretty foul mood, having tossed and turned the rest of the night.

"'Morning, Sammy," he greeted cheerfully.

"I bet it was good," I mumbled in a snide tone.

"Huh?" Al stopped on the way to the bathroom; I could feel his startled gaze on me, even though I was avoiding eye contact.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself last night," I remarked evenly, pulling on a shirt.

"I detect a note of discordance in the air," he commented when several moments of icy silence from me ensued. "Let's clear it."

"Okay," I spun on him. "I think she's a real nice lady. And it's pretty lousy to start something with her that you can't finish--if you get my drift."

"Since when have you been shocked by my tete-a-tetes?"

"Oh, I'm not shocked. I guess I just expected too much from you." After twenty years of friendship, I knew which buttons to push. And I was going after them with a vengeance. I couldn't have stopped myself if I'd tried. "I was hoping you really were capable of caring about someone enough not to hurt them."

"Just who are you talking about here, anyway?" he asked bluntly, not quite angry...yet.

"Does it matter?" I snapped back. "The point is, you're going to charm that sweet, lonely woman, when you can't follow through."

"Yeah? And who says I can't finish it?" Al countered, hackles raised from my provocation.

"You'll be staying here then?" I asked, not so much a question. Something flashed in Al's eyes only a moment, but I recognized it. Guilt. _He does want to stay._ "Okay, fine," I said shortly, starting for the door.

Al grabbed my arm as I tried to pass. "Okay, you're right and I was wrong," he agreed, letting go and sinking down onto the bed.

The unexpected admission was enough to stop me in my tracks...and get me wondering why I'd started the stupid argument in the first place. Al had never deserted me when I needed him. I knew that.

"So I was trying to recapture something where I should have left well enough alone." I'd never seen Al in this type of mood before. A kind of yearning wistfulness I couldn't place hung over him like a cloud. And very rarely did he carry on a serious conversation of any sort about a woman.

"Did you love her?" I asked quietly, sitting down on the bed beside him.

"She reminded me of...Beth."

"Her?" I said in surprise.

Al shrugged. "I don't know why. Her favorite flowers are Calla lilies."

That wasn't hard to guess, I'd seen the flowers growing beside the house. How she got them to bloom in this soil, was a feat.

Al shrugged again. "I saw what I wanted to see. But it wasn't love. It was...easy, comfortable."

I still wasn't sure I knew where he was coming from...to borrow an outdated colloquialism. "Is that what you want?"

"I honestly don't think I know what I want," Al told me, got up and headed for the bathroom. A moment later I heard the shower go on.

And that made two of us.

XXX

Sometimes, things are just too obvious to hide from them.

In the days that followed, Al and Charlotte kept on their intimately friendly terms. Oh, they weren't sleeping together anymore that I could see, but it didn't matter. I didn't like seeing them together, hated hearing them reminiscing and laughing together. Having had Al's complete attention all those years, I wasn't prepared for sharing.

I was jealous of Charlotte.

That little paranoid man who lived inside my head wouldn't leave me alone. Despite what Al had said, I was afraid he might decide to stay after all. A beautiful woman, an easy life, who would blame him? Besides me, I mean. Even worse, I found myself wondering if he wasn't trying very hard to find a solution to our problem because he didn't want to.

I felt guilty for feeling these things, after I told Al I still trusted him. I wanted to trust him. But I felt so alone sometimes, and it wasn't supposed to be like that. I was home. Except my life had been taken away from me and the only thing I had left, Al, I was afraid would be taken away as well.

I really liked Charlotte, and that added to my frustrations. It's a real bummer to have a rival you like.

_A rival, that makes it sound like..._

"Hey Sammy, what's up?"

I jumped a foot at the sound of Al's voice.

He walked over to where I was lounging on the hammock. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Come up with any brilliant ideas?"

I shook my head. Whatever he was selling, I wasn't in the mood to buy. "I was just cloud-watching."

"Like you used to do when you were a kid." I nodded. "When's the last time you had a chance to do that?"

"A long time," I agreed. He was so cheerful, damn him.

"How about star-gazing?"

"No," I answered flatly.

"How about tonight? Just the two of us, a bottle of wine, and the big dipper to drink it out of."

"Tonight?" I said, baffled by his mood and biting back sarcastic surprise that he'd be choosing my company over Charlotte's.

"It's a date."

**AL** :

It was a perfect night for contemplating the heavens. Clear, and no moon to take away from the brilliance of the stars. Sam had borrowed Charlotte's Kitaro tape, and we lay on a Navajo blanket and toasted the constellations while he told of star gazing with his dad and I talked about being up in space. It was relaxing him, as I'd hoped. I knew it always helped him feel more secure, at home, to be watching the stars.

Me, I could look up and daydream, pretend we were in a special place that the real world couldn't intrude upon.

"There's none more beautiful than the New Mexico sky," I said with a sigh.

"I'd almost forgotten what it was like," Sam murmured.

"Despite our problems, it's still good to be home, isn't it, Sam?" I asked, almost imploringly.

"I..." he sat up and I followed suit, sensing a change in his mood. "It's not just the situation. I feel...I don't know, insecure, like it's gonna all fall apart any second."

In a moment of clarity, I realized the damage really had been done that day at the hearing. The strain we'd felt since was because of that incident. At a time when Sam normally would have gotten security from having me around, he wasn't sure of me anymore. I'd lost some of his trust.

"What can I do to get you to believe in me again?" I whispered.

"It's not your fault. I'm...very confused right now."

"I feel pretty confused myself sometimes," I admitted. "Like we're speaking some foreign language that I don't understand a word of."

"You haven't done anything wrong. You've been the best friend a guy could want. Just give me time, huh? I'll work it out."

I decided to tackle it all. After all, that's why I'd planned this evening. "What about yesterday morning? What was that all about?" I'd sensed something in his attitude, but understanding was just beyond reach.

"I'm sorry. I was just grouchy, I didn't get much sleep. I didn't mean to butt into your private life."

"Is there something about Charlotte that you don't like, Sam?"

"Hey, I think she's a nice lady, she took us into her home no questions asked, we'd be dead meat if it weren't for her--"

"You didn't answer my question, Sam." I knew his evasion tactics too well.

"I..." he looked about to say something, then abruptly changed track, ignoring my question. "You asked me if it was good to be home. I know home should be where _you_ are."

"Should?" I asked, fearing a past-tense lurking in there somewhere.

"I need you, Al. It took this crazy situation to make me realize how much. Then I feel like I'm gonna lose you, and I...I think maybe I'm selfish. I want you all to myself."

Or maybe he hadn't changed the subject.

Sam's hand, shaking slightly, rose to my face. I reached up, intending to stop him. Instead I grasped his hand in mine, mind and heart racing. I'd seen that look before, but never directed at me. Recognition flooded my senses. It wasn't really a surprise to me, on the contrary. It was inevitable. But it was unwelcome and untimely, just the same.

"I..." Sam began.

I knew what would come next, any second now...

Panic set in, my self-preservation kicked into high gear. "Sam, the way I acted earlier, what I said about a date...I didn't mean for you to misinterpret it."

Sam snatched his hand away, a look of guilt, embarrassment--and, just for a moment, rejection--darkening his expression. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

The time for pretense was long past. "I can't...we can't be lovers, just so you can feel secure," I tried to use reason, which wanted to desert me.

"Forget it," Sam said, jumped to his feet. Hurt, by me again. Only this time I couldn't make it right.

But I owed him honesty.

I caught up with Sam before he reached the trailer. "Listen to me," I grabbed his arm and held him in place. "It's not that I don't want you. I do." And I want _you_ all to myself, too. "But I'm afraid."

Sam started to come towards me with a placating expression and I knew if he touched me I'd be lost. I backed up, and he froze.

"I'm not some dumb female, Sam. I'm not going to be foolish enough to try and change you, or think that either of us can be happy living a life of star gazing and barbecues. You're insecure and afraid? Well so am I. I'm afraid you're going to leap again. It's my worst nightmare, but it's also the only way to prove to them that it works. You know it and I know it, it's just something we didn't want to face. I don't want to lose you, but I know I'm going to. I can't risk loving you too."

"Al--"

"Don't you understand? If we became lovers...I...I don't know if I'd be strong enough to let you go, or to survive what comes next. I've done everything for you, please don't ask that of me."

We both knew there was nowhere to go from there. Nothing to say. Sam turned around and stared up at the stars, and I watched his back for awhile.

"I'm sorry if I've let you down by not being everything you need. But I swear, your faithful hologram will be there beside you every step of the way for as long as the good Lord lets me."

"Are those your terms, then?" Sam asked, turning around slowly.

"Those aren't terms! There is no choice, Sam, we both know that. For either of us. I'd do anything for you... I'm asking this one thing of you." Leaving myself open, admitting it was his choice. When I said I'd do _anything_ , I meant it. I wouldn't be able to say no if he asked.

"I don't want to hurt you, Al," Sam said finally. "Never wanted to... I understand what you're saying. Thank you for being honest with me."

"We need honesty, now especially."

Sam nodded. "My truth is that I love you, more than I'll ever love anyone. But I know sometimes love is inadequate." He started to walk away.

"Sam," I called, and he stopped. "Love may be inadequate, but friendship rarely is." I bent down to get my glass of wine, holding it up in an offering.

Sam hesitantly came over and picked up his own glass, and we silently toasted our friendship. Then he took a walk and I let him go, knowing he needed time to be alone. I gathered up the stuff and headed for the house, and Charlotte. Shamelessly.

XXX

Things were bound to be pretty tense after that, because, well, it's not easy to share a bed with someone when you have a new awareness of each other. And sleeping in the house wouldn't smooth the rough edges, either, so I dutifully crept into the trailer later that night. Besides, I didn't want Sam to wake up from another nightmare alone. Like he'd said, I knew what it felt like. He was already asleep when I climbed into bed, probably on purpose. We were both trying, but...we were both human, and both hurting.

I lay there staring at the clock, daydreaming, feeling sorry for myself; everything but sleeping. I tried to avoid looking at the compelling body next to mine, yet I couldn't bring myself to close the curtains and darken the view. It was going to be a long night.

Sam's slumber was made up of uneasy tossing and turning, prelude to something more, I was sure. In fact, if there'd been a bookie nearby, I would have bet on it.

Sure enough, soon I heard my name being called, in that same vulnerable, abandoned voice that made me want to go and smash something.

This time it had a firmer hold of him than usual. He was struggling with unseen captors, fighting a phantom battle next to me. I managed to avoid becoming a casualty of war by grabbing his arms just in time to prevent one from connecting with my face.

"Sam," I called softly, holding him still.

He calmed immediately, but still didn't wake. "Please don't leave me, Al..." his sleep-voice murmured almost unintelligibly. "I need you. I can't...I can't make it without you. You're all I have..." There were tears in that voice, something I didn't dare listen to. The weight, the living warmth of him, the smell... Instead of feeling protective, I was feeling a warmth in my groin that spelled disaster.

"Sam!" I yelled louder, shaking him firmly. "Wake up."

His breathing changed, his eyes flew open. "Al?" he whispered in a shaky voice.

"It's me, I'm right here," I said gruffly.

Sam's grip on me tightened, and for one glorious, terrifying moment I thought he was about to pull me closer. Then he let go and moved away slightly, putting some space between us. "I'm sorry..." he said, meeting my eyes.

There were tears on his lashes, pain haunting the deep, beautiful eyes. I'd never thought of another man as beautiful before, but I realized, looking at him... Looking into that face, sweet and naughty at once, caring and vulnerable and mischievous, all its myriad expressions of which I'd seen every one; I knew this was the face I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking at. And he wanted me, really wanted me. I could have it for my own, if I just reached out for it.

I found myself unable to turn away, as the tide carried me away; the closeness, after so many years of emptiness, overwhelmed me. The thought of him apologizing, for loving me, was unbearable. I shook my head, reaching for his face with both hands. "No, it's okay...don't," I shushed him in a tone which bordered on pleading. And, before I was quite aware of what I was doing, we were kissing.

The lips which merged with mine were softer than I could have imagined, gentle as the man himself, but with a hint of the power beneath. It could have been intimidating, but this was Sam. And he was putting his whole heart, body and soul into the kiss. It was a soul I knew almost as well as my own. My reservations were swept away; I wanted to explore further.

It was Sam who broke away first, but not until after our intentions and desires were well revealed. He was already breathing hard. _Did I cause that?_

"You took a shower," he said, running a timid hand through my damp hair. His eyes spoke to me clearly...knowledge, and gratitude.

It made me feel compelled to embarrassing honesty. "I didn't... Charlotte and I _didn't_ ," I finished haltingly.

"Why?" Sam asked, but I didn't miss the hint of pleasure my words caused. A dangerous thing we were getting into all right, already the signs were there. But maybe it was too late...had been too late for a long time now. If he was used to having me all to himself, I was just as used to being the center of his existence.

"I don't know. I couldn't go through with it. Go figure."

"Are you sure you wanna go through with _this_?" he asked, very seriously.

I remembered what Sam had told me shortly before he leaped, when our funding was about to be cut off. That the worst thing would be living with not knowing if it would have worked, what it would be like.

I desperately wanted to know.

"I'm only sure that I can't stop now," I told him.

"Good...me either."

Our bodies were already winding around each other like vines, striving for more closeness. All the years of separation, loneliness, and fear coalesced into an overpowering need, a desire more intense than anything I'd ever felt before...even with Beth. The desperation was almost a physical ache, causing us to grope wildly in an urgent desire to get rid of what little clothing we wore.

With the feeling of our naked bodies pressing tightly together, the reality of the situation slammed into my nervous system. Sam was a man, all man, his body hard and sweaty. I ran my hands over his muscles. It was a feeling I wasn't used to, but it filled me with the thrill of something forbidden, mysterious...and sweet.

Sam groaned and pulled me into him, pressing our groins together. We set a rhythm easily, like we'd been doing it for years. Everything after that was a blur of sensation and emotions run amok. Murmurs were impassioned pleas, moans indistinguishable with sobs.

The climax when it came was a shattering of my life and my soul. In a split instant, I understood that everything was changed...nothing would ever be the same again. Especially me.

But I felt free, maybe for the first time in my life.

**End chapter two**


	3. Chapter 3

**SAM** :

"So, why'd you break up with Charlotte, anyway?" I asked Al. I figured it was about time I heard the whole mysterious story.

The sun was almost up, and we'd spent a good deal of time getting 'reacquainted' with each other, starting to redefine our relationship. It was scary, but wonderful, too. I didn't know whether to be tearfully emotional or giddily happy...but I couldn't get myself to be dignified or controlled for anything. I've always fallen hard. Yeah, and fast. Like Al said, I tend to get obsessed...I was forming one hell of an obsession.

"Hmm?" Al mumbled from his place in my shoulder and cloud nine.

"How old are you??" I said, impressed.

He summoned enough strength to hit me for that.

"I asked why you broke up with Charlotte."

Al fluffed his pillow and leaned back, grabbing my hand with a rather possessive air, and we played with each others' fingers, like lovers do. "We met in Socorro, shortly after you started to leap. Jerry had died the previous year and she was starting over, going to New Mexico Tech for a degree in geology. After she graduated and moved back here there wasn't much chance to be together; I didn't want to be this far away from the Project."

I felt a rush of love for this man, whose love for me knew no bounds. "You're always sacrificing for me."

In typical Al style, he just shrugged, smiling casually. "It's become a habit. Like smoking, drinking and women."

It was too good to pass up. I grinned lasciviously. "I bet I can break one of your habits..."

"You know, you're right," Al said teasingly. "Do you know when the last time I had a cigar was?"

I threw my leg over him and insinuated myself intimately. "Make that two..."

And speaking of two...

**AL** :

I don't know what Charlotte thought, because Sam and I weren't at breakfast the next morning. In fact, we shamelessly spent the whole day in bed. I don't know where the time went either, but before I knew it it was evening, and we managed to join her for dinner in the house and a T.V. movie afterwards. We said our good-nights early, too.

I guess I should have been happy and content...exhausted, at the very least. Yet I found myself awake long after Sam had fallen into a deep sleep. Things had happened so fast, I felt like they were spiraling out of control. My common sense had vanished and I desperately needed it back. Us having sex wasn't suddenly going to erase all the problems as if by magic, in fact, it might have made them worse. I had a feeling Sam, with his innocent optimism, thought so though.

And the thought uppermost on my mind...what was I going to do if Sam leaped again?

Deciding some fresh air was in order--literally, all I could smell in the bed was us, and it wasn't doing a thing for my objectivity--I slipped out from the tangle of Sam's limbs and left the trailer.

**SAM** :

I don't know what woke me, but in those fuzzy first-moments of awareness, I was just glad it wasn't another nightmare. Al's loving must have chased them away... Thinking of Al made me lazily reach out...only to find the space next to me empty and cold.

Cold?

I blinked and sat up, eyes darting to the bathroom. The door was open, the inside dark and quiet.

"Al?" I called softly, then more loudly. The small trailer might have felt huge without Al in it, but it was still small enough to tell it was empty at a glance.

Trying not to let my over-active fears and insecurities get the best of me, I threw on a previously abandoned pair of pajamas and shoes, and went outside. A cursory search did nothing to reassure me. Al was nowhere to be seen, the car was still safely hidden underneath the tarp, and Charlotte's jeep was parked in the driveway. The area around the house was pitch black, barren land.

He wouldn't have gone for a walk, not out there.

I don't know what made me lose it then, except for the fact that Al was nowhere outside or in the trailer, and that left only one place to look. Still, I tried to insist there was an innocent explanation, even as I walked into the back door of the house and found it to be dark and silent. No one raiding the refrigerator, no smell of coffee in the air. I called Al's name, loudly now, heard only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. As much as the small, reasonable part of my mind tried to tell me I was jumping to conclusions, the other part was reminding me there was no other conclusion.

_Where else could he be?_

I forced my legs to carry me past the dining room, into the living room. The staircase was before me. "Al!" I called again. This time, I didn't want to get an answer.

_He couldn't be...he wouldn't do that to me._

But where else is there for him to be?

I ended up bursting into Charlotte's room. There I was, one hand on the light switch and one on the doorknob, as Charlotte blinked up at me sleepily from her place in the bed -- alone in the bed.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

"I...uh..." My eyes darted to the bathroom, almost hoping at this point, that he'd be there and get me out of this embarrassing situation. He wasn't, and I stood there like a fool, unable to come up with an excuse for my behavior. "Al's missing," I finally blurted. "And I thought...anyway, I'll let you know when I find him." And I made my exit as gracefully--and quickly--as I could.

The feeling of foolishness wore off fast as I realized Al really was missing. The jealousy and adrenaline transformed into a solid ball of fear, taking residence in my stomach.

_Al, where the hell are you?!_

Panic spurring me on. I thoroughly searched the entire house and trailer, then took a flashlight and went out to the yard. Peering into the darkness as far as the beam would reach, I yelled Al's name over and over. The silence I got in return was ominous.

_The sound carries here, especially at night. He wouldn't have gone far, no way. So if he was out there, he'd hear me. If..._

I was heading back around the front when Charlotte came out of the door, belting a robe around her. "You didn't find him?" she asked, as if she couldn't quite believe it herself.

I shook my head. "I'm going to take the jeep and drive down to the main road, give me the keys." As she quickly disappeared inside again, I tried to stifle my rising panic. It was inconceivable that Al would have taken a stroll down a dark road at night with no flashlight. But if I eliminated that, what was left? Right from the start, there'd been no reasonable explanation for his disappearance. And it scared the hell out of me.

Charlotte came down the stairs and handed me her keys. "I'll stay here in case he comes back."

I nodded and jumped into the jeep.

I drove slowly down the road with the high beams on, stopping every half mile to shine the flashlight around and call out. When I arrived at the main road, I cut the engine and just sat there, listening to the silence around me. It was dark, cold, empty.

Just like I felt.

XXX

"Did he come back?" I asked, hitting the kitchen in a near-run. With every move, followed that desperate hope that insisted he'd be right around the corner.

Charlotte shook her head and grabbed my arm as I turned to go back outside. "Sit down and have a cup of coffee. You look like you're about to fall down any minute."

I shook my head in denial. "I have to keep looking..."

"It'll make you more alert."

I had to concede her point, the adrenaline that had kept me going until now was deserting me fast. I needed the shot of caffeine. I sat down to the mug she'd put on the table, downing the hot liquid as fast as I could.

"Where could he be?!" I almost demanded.

"I don't know," Charlotte answered softly.

The quiet tone frightened me even more than supplications would have. At that moment I didn't want the truth, I needed those meaningless words of reassurance to drown out the voice in my head.

_Maybe he took a walk, fell and hit his head...he could be lying dead somewhere..._

_Not now, please God. Not when we've just found each other!_

"I gotta go back out there," I said, finishing the rest of the coffee in one gulp and jumping up. "I've got to keep looking..."

Charlotte put her hand on my shoulder and tried to push me back down. "Sam, listen to me. You're not going to find him tonight, it's too dark. Wait till morning, get some sleep first."

"I can't!" I shouted, grabbing her arms roughly. "Don't you understand?! He's got to be in trouble, there's no other explanation..." I must have been a sight, disheveled and distraught, wild-eyed with worry. But I was single-minded, refusing to listen to reason.

"You won't be helping him if you collapse," Charlotte insisted. "Sam--"

"How can you talk like that? You slept with him--don't you even care about him?!"

Charlotte winced, I didn't know whether it was from my unkind remark or the fingers that were digging into her upper arms. I let go guiltily.

"I've got to find him," I said quietly, starting outside.

Charlotte followed me to the door and watched as I ran down the steps...

Just as Al came strolling down the sidewalk.

I think I just stared at him in disbelief an entire minute before the whole thing hit me. His calm words, however, broke the spell.

"What's going on?" he asked, glancing from one to the other of us. He looked perfectly okay, healthy and normal. And everything I'd been feeling since he'd been missing came crashing down on me.

Relief left me feeling weak in the knees and nauseous. I'd been going crazy, and he was just fine. Suddenly, I was livid. "What's going on?" I repeated, marching up to Al and giving him an angry shove. "What's going on?! Is that all you can say? _What's going on!_

"Sam, what--" he cut off, obviously deciding the sentence had been repeated enough.

"I'm going crazy looking all over for you, thinking something terrible happened to you and here you waltz in big as you please?!"

Al tried to put his hand on my arm, but I wasn't having any of it. I shrugged off his touch and stormed into the trailer, slamming the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

I stood there in the middle of the room. I was angry, upset, on the verge of tears. My emotions were something wild and untamed, out of my control. And that little voice inside my head was whispering to me again. _What's wrong with you, falling apart like that? Get ahold of yourself! Men don't act like this..._

It made me feel weak, ashamed. I concentrated on the anger until I blocked out everything else I was feeling.

_Just like that, I'm supposed to just shut off my feelings. It's okay, he's fine? It's not fair..._

I blindly threw some things into Al's bag and slammed back out of the trailer.

Al was on the steps talking to Charlotte when I breezed past, heading for the car. He followed me, naturally. I was about to pull off the tarp when he grabbed both my shoulders to stop me.

I felt so damned shaky, like if I allowed it I'd shake apart piece by piece. I didn't dare stop moving or let go of the anger fueling me. "Fine!" I yelled, burning with shame. I threw the bag to the ground and strode back into the trailer with as much dignity as I could muster.

**AL** :

I glanced at Char with a look of apology/bafflement, and followed Sam into the trailer. It would have been comical, but life hadn't been a sitcom in a long, long time.

When I got there, Sam was on his stomach in the bed, body shaking with sobs. At least there was something I could do. Comforting Sam was my forte.

I sat down beside him and put my hand on his back, rubbing soothingly. "God, Sam...I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't know... I climbed up the ladder to the roof of the trailer, so I could watch the stars and think without something creepy-crawly trying to get intimate. I fell asleep."

"I called your name over and over!" it would have been a shout if it hadn't been muffled by the pillow.

_I called to you, but you turned away..._ my memory supplied with a sickening lurch. No wonder Sam reacted the way he had. Just when I thought we were putting that behind us...

"I heard you, but I was dreaming. At least I thought I was. I never imagined anything like this would happen... It was a stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry. Please believe me, I never meant to scare you like this."

"How could you not have woken up?!" he insisted.

"I was exhausted Sam, both emotionally and physically. And I think," I punctuated my statement by massaging his shoulders, "So are you."

"I acted like such a fool," he whispered after a few minutes, almost too low for me to hear.

I climbed all the way onto the bed and coaxed him into my arms, speaking softly. "It's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure if Beeks were here, she'd say it's perfectly normal to get this emotional after the five years you've had." My hand slid under his pajama top, caressing the warm skin there.

I knew I was finally getting him calmed down when I felt his body relax. I heaved my own silent sigh of relief.

"My mother used to rub my back when I was little," Sam murmured, as my hand wandered lower of its own volition. "My mother never did _that_ ," he whispered, reaching out for me.

"I should hope not."

Sam's touch had an edge of desperation, as he urged me closer. I wasn't surprised when I felt the heat of his erection pressing against my thigh. The inevitable aftermath of the intense emotions.

Our clothes fell to the floor beside the bed. My touch had more of a healing quality than a lustful one, as I stroked his body, wanting to erase all the pain. When our mouths met, I could taste the fear still lingering in his kiss. I wanted to love it away.

The passion built quickly, as I knew it would. It hadn't taken me long to learn to read Sam's body, and I wasn't having any trouble now. After mere moments of rough kisses, he pulled me closer almost savagely, wrapping his legs around my waist, almost as if he was giving me a silent message he was too shy to speak aloud...

"Al, please..."

His message was as clear as the need blazing in his eyes, transmitting the urgency to me. I pulled away slightly, casting around frantically for...something.

I don't know if he felt any fear, but I was sure petrified.

Sam cried out at the partial loss of contact. "I need you..."

"We don't have any--"

"I don't care!" He was doing everything to try and get things started, even without my help. The whirlwind of passion threatened to carry me away too; only my pulse, pounding in my throat, helped me keep sane.

I caressed his chest gently, trying to calm us both down.

"Al..."

"Shh...I'll make love to you. But not like this. Slowly..."

He whimpered at my words.

Before I could let either of us change my mind, I tore myself away from Sam and stumbled into the bathroom, pulling open the medicine cabinet and staring inside. That's when I realized I had no idea what I could use. It wasn't like I had any experience in these matters... I rifled through the contents, peering at things before discarding them onto the counter as I dismissed them.

“Al, what are you doing?” Sam called.

“Uh, I, uh... looking for...something... stuff...” Appalling, that Al Calavicci could get tongue-tied in regards to sex. Sam would probably never let me live it down. At least I always had condoms on me. Never leave home without them.

“I saw some Aloe Vera,” Sam told me.

I grabbed the Aloe, and a condom from my bag (never leave home without them), and went back to my lover. Sam plastered himself to me as if I'd been gone years, and I forgot about my humiliation pretty quickly.

He was pretty far along already, but I wasn't taking any chances. After all the hurt I'd caused recently, I couldn't bare the thought of inflicting any more. I tried to ease us into this new step, kissing his chest and nibbling all those special spots I'd discovered on our sexual odyssey that day. I teased his cock with my tongue, running up and down the length with just the right amount of pressure; took just the head in, sucking lightly.

Then Sam bucked up and cried out, and I realized I could be hurting him more by my prolonged teasing at that point.

I used up most of the Aloe.

When the head of my dick began its entrance, Sam's eyes flew open. A bout of shyness hit and I wanted to look away from that naked gaze, wished I'd turned him over.

"Please..." he whispered. "I want to feel you."

I sank forward another inch, the hot tightness sheathing me beginning to overrule my cautious mind. I grasped his cock, pumping it slowly to take his attention away from any possible pain as I slid in further...and I couldn't help myself. I had to start moving, the old in-and-out boogie.

I lost most of my coherence after that, but I know Sam was clutching handfuls of sheet and crying out with every thrust. His vocal encouragement heightened my own pleasure. I've been with many partners, but I've never felt this connection that I felt with Sam.

Sam's legs fell from my shoulders, and he arched up off the bed in a move of acrobatic proportions. His cry of release was a sharp intake of breath, as I felt his come splatter my chest. I picked up my pace in order to follow, burying myself into his body, striving for completion. I felt it building up, unbearably...then the climax hit and I held in a yell as I came inside his body.

It was like the aftermath of a hurricane. Quiet, with the echo of the storm still ringing in my ears. Spent and battered, I collapsed on top of Sam.

Several minutes passed in the post-coital fog before I realized he was clutching me, tremors running through his body.

"You okay?" I had to try three times before I could get the question out.

"I love you..." he breathed.

It was another of those moments of perfect insight. I knew exactly what was needed from me now. I lifted myself off of Sam and settled him in my arms--which must have been a sight since he's bigger than I am--and grabbed his face between my hands. "I'm in love with you too, Sam. Forever," I vowed with every ounce of feeling I possessed, kissing his passion swollen lips gently.

Sam sighed deeply, turning half over and burying his face in my neck. I went back to rubbing his back again. He was totally relaxed now, spent of all the emotions that had been battering him, body limp and sated. On the verge of sleep. He'd gone from feeling ashamed of his outburst of emotion to begging another man to fuck him, almost in the blink of an eye. It might have seemed incongruous, but on some instinctive level, it made perfect sense. Sam Beckett was a complicated man. It had been exactly what he'd needed.

"No one to rub your back," I thought I heard him murmur as he drifted into sleep.

The thought that floated unbidden into my mind as I followed Sam down into sleep, was...why is it when I'm in the middle of my _own_ crisis do I always end up comforting _him_?

**SAM** :

I woke up slowly, like swimming my way up from a jar of molasses. For a moment there was no thought, then, an embarrassing flash of last night's activity went through my mind. I shrugged it off, feeling too thoroughly content to concern myself with trivial matters. Al was still asleep, no one to be embarrassed in front of. I'm more... immediate, anyway. When I'm upset I show it, when it's over, it's over. Al's the one who'll stew over things forever, analyzing himself and his actions fifty ways to Sunday.

My limbs were still stuck in the molasses, they felt leaden. I stretched experimentally, feeling the story of what we'd done last night in my body, defying my attempt to ignore it.

Not wanting to move yet, I watched Al sleep. He wasn't just Al anymore. This was my lover. My...man. He'd touched me where no one else ever had, and I felt closer to him than I've ever been to anyone. I needed the closeness; knew having him make love to me was going to be as necessary as breathing in my life.

And this was Al. As long as I could manage to behave with a modicum of competency as a man in public, it didn't matter. I could be myself with Al, always, without concern. The knowledge of that infused me with such a sense of security, my previous minor doubt faded from my mind.

When finally my bladder forced me out of the warm cocoon of the bed, I decided to stay up. I scrapped three drafts of a note before writing, simply, "I love you", and leaving it on my pillow--a consideration to let him know I wasn't pulling any disappearing acts on him. Not that I hadn't done even worse to him than the accident of last night...

Okay, so it did feel a little weird, leaving mushy love notes...to Al! I still wasn't completely comfortable with this new role, but I wanted to start doing something nice for Al. Lord knew I hadn't been very good at that previously. So I started over to the house, planning for Al to wake up to coffee, flowers on the table, maybe even breakfast in bed.

Wasn't a hell of a lot as recompense, was it?

It was a start.

Unfortunately, the only thing in the yard besides cactus, was calla lilies...which would absolutely not do. Harboring larcenous thoughts about the bouquet of flowers I knew Charlotte always kept on the dining room table, I opened the back door and went inside.

As I walked into the kitchen, I was surprised to find Charlotte sitting at the table in her bathrobe, cup of coffee in front of her. "I thought you'd be at work," I blurted, hoping afterwards that I hadn't sounded too disappointed.

"After not getting any sleep last night, I knew I wasn't in any shape to go to work today. I called in sick."

"I'm sorry..." I said, sinking down onto a chair and feeling ashamed all over again.

"It's not your fault, Al's the one who decided to vanish into thin air. Help yourself to coffee, you look like you can use it."

I went about fixing two mugs of coffee, uncomfortably aware of the awkwardness of the situation for me...and how bizarre my extreme behavior the previous night must seem to Charlotte. I briefly considered trying a semi-excuse about being under a lot of stress, once again abandoning the idea of explaining as futile.

"I want to bring Al some coffee," I mumbled as I caught sight of her watching me.

"Awfully nice of you, after what he put you through last night," she remarked.

"It wasn't really his fault," I said. "And I overreacted."

"Do you really think that? Al disappeared in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, and you were worried about him. How were you supposed to feel?"

I felt my face heating up, bowed my head.

"My husband was tough as nails," Charlotte began telling me quietly. "He got shot in a hunting accident once, they had to take out the bullet without anesthesia or even a shot of whiskey, and he didn't shed a tear. Fought for everything we had, built this house with his own hands. I've never met a man with more strength than my Jerry.

"But one evening I was walking out back and tripped over a rock, fell and banged my head pretty badly. I was out for a few minutes. When I came to, I thought I was hallucinating," she laughed softly. "There were tears pouring down Jerry's face. He thought I'd gotten myself killed."

Message received, but should I take it at face value, or was there more to it? I felt uncomfortably exposed. "Al's a pretty strong guy," I commented, I don't know why.

"Yes, he is," Charlotte agreed. "Al has...private strength. I know that isn't much of an explanation, but I can't think of how else to phrase it."

I nodded; she didn't have to. "Because the pain he bears is on the inside."

"I always got the impression he needed something, but I didn't know what. I only knew I couldn't give it to him."

"I'm not sure anybody can," I said, I thought too low for her to hear.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Charlotte said, and rose. "I'm going up to take a shower. I'll see you later." She patted my arm on her way into the other room.

I grabbed the flowers off the dining room table and went back to the trailer.

**AL** :

When I came out of the bathroom, Sam was just walking into the trailer. He stopped in his tracks, looking embarrassed, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I...wanted to uh, surprise you," he mumbled. He coughed once, shrugged, and put a tray with two mugs of coffee and a vase of flowers down on the table beside the bed.

It was going to be one of those awkward mornings, unless one of us did something about it. I walked over and pulled Sam into my arms. He melted against me, and we shared our first kiss of the day.

I was doing it again, wasn't I? Where Sam was concerned I operated almost exclusively on my own special automatic pilot. He needed, I gave. My life could be falling apart at the seams and he'd have a splinter, and I'd be running for the tweezers before I even knew what I was doing.

"You're a thief, Sam Beckett," I told him, nuzzling his ear and holding him close. "First you steal my heart, and now, flowers."

"I only borrowed the flowers," he said, hand going down to loosen the towel I wore around my waist. Then, in a move that I think surprised us both, boldly sank to his knees.

XXX

"We're only four hours from the Project, aren't we?" Sam asked, seeming preoccupied.

"Yeah." I could read him like a book. I tried not to be mad at him, and steeled myself against the inevitable.

We were outside, earning our keep by washing Charlotte's windows. The carefree horse-play had stopped long enough ago for our clothes to have dried, and it'd been a long time since Sam had said anything. I knew when he did, it wasn't going to be something I wanted to hear...or was ready to deal with. I'd said I wouldn't be able to handle it if we became lovers... well, now we were. We hadn't talked about _that_ yet, either.

And maybe, I had to admit, that's part of the reason I ran for the tweezers so fast. To help me ignore my own problems.

"Hey, did I tell you that Char also works part-time at the Black-Water Draw National Archaeological Site?" Okay, so I was still hoping to enthuse him with something else. Distract him from his obsession of twenty years. Convince him not to go.

"She's a special lady," Sam said, his mind elsewhere.

"And did you know, Buddy Holly recorded some hits in Clovis, only forty-miles away from here?"

"I think we can sneak into the Project fairly easily," he said.

"It's a big risk, Sam." _Give it up,_ I wanted to beg him. A good sailor knows when to give up the ship.

_A good sailor never gives up the ship._

"How far do you think they've gotten with the dismantling?"

"At the pace the government works? They're probably still working on filling out the proper paperwork. Sam...I've been thinking. You could stay here where it's safe and I could go back, try to get them to listen to me. We could arrange a contact, maybe Gooshie."

"If we go, we go together," he said firmly. "I mean that, Al."

"Then I have an even better idea," I said, putting down the hose and grabbing his hand.

"What?" he asked warily.

"Step into my office, and we'll 'discuss' it," I purred, leading him into the trailer. Okay, it was a pathetic evasion, but hey, he wasn't complaining.

Besides, if it was going to be soon, I wanted something special to remember him by.

XXX

It wasn't quite what I'd expected. On the other hand, it's not like I'd ever thought about what it would be like to have a man make love to me. At first Sam was surprised by my request, but then he was... gentle and loving, consideration for my comfort evident in his every move. He seemed to know just what I needed, and exactly how to give it to me. Oh, I've seen how he can be with women, had more than a hint of his aggressiveness in our previous lovemaking. But the only thing unleashed this time was tenderness.

At first there was some discomfort; those sad eyes gazed at me, through me, sorrowfully, as if in solemn acknowledgment of all the years of pain, both physical and emotional.

I welcomed this kind of pain though, it was different from the others. It made me know I was being touched, reached...for the first time in ages.

It wasn't all pain though, it was...well, I finally understood what gay men saw in getting butt fucked. Beyond the obvious, heck, I'd had some adventurous women, I knew all about the prostate gland. This was...deeper. Sam was giving of himself, I was taking. It was a catharsis for me. Whether it was making me stronger, or just tearing down all my defenses, remained to be seen.

XXX

"How dare you presuppose what I feel, anyway."

"Huh?" I asked Sam, still feeling fuzzy around the edges.

"You've been telling me to, in essence, grow up, yet you're always assuming what I'm feeling and trying to lead me around by the nose with it."

"Sam, I've just been fucked for the first time. I'm not up to following any complicated psychological discussions." All I really wanted to do was feel him holding me and listen to him breathing, while I still had the privilege. "What exactly is it you're trying to say?"

"You didn't let me finish what I was saying before." I tensed, and he felt it. "Because you thought you knew what it was going to be," his voice gentled.

"Thought?" I asked, not daring to hope.

"I have an idea, I think you might go for--but if you don't," he hastened to add, "I'll just have to think of something else." There was determination in his voice.

"What?"

"If we need to prove it really works, you leap instead of me. I stay home."

I stared at Sam, wide-awake now, as the import of what he said sunk in. "You hate being a hologram."

"So do you. It won't be a perfect solution, but I'll be home, safe. I know it's what you want."

It was almost as if he could read my mind; all those times I pleaded to an unhearing god to let him alone, offering myself instead. The times I knew the real hell was standing by and watching, that it would be so much easier to be the one leaping than the one left behind.

But there was another consideration, now.

"You know there's a good chance I'll Swiss cheese us?" I told him.

Sam nodded solemnly. "With luck," he said, his voice not-quite- steady.

_To make it easier on me..._ Sam's genuine willingness to try and protect me from being alone was overwhelming. Yes, if it had to be, that's the way I'd prefer it. But to forget this love...

"Are those your terms, Sam?" I asked.

He was silent for so long, I was beginning to wonder if he would answer. "No," he finally said, and when he looked at me there was a hint of tears in his eyes. "We can't do it...go through that again," he began, as if reading my mind again. Or maybe the same thoughts had just occurred to him. "If they want proof, we'll have to find another way."

"But if we're forced into it," I persisted, "I leap and you stay home. Right?"

"I won't leave you alone again, Al," he whispered, and kissed me.

**SAM** :

Two days later, it was all over.

Funny how the most complicated things can turn out to be the simplest. Obviously neither one of us was thinking too clearly all along. I'm not sorry about the time we spent at Charlotte's though, a lot of important things came of it. I never found out if she'd figured out about our relationship or not, and Al never mentioned what, if anything, he told her. But it didn't really matter.

The important thing was that I'd finally figured out the final piece of the puzzle, the day Al asked me to make love to him. Why I'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of his childhood. It wasn't remorse for his past loneliness, it was a message for the future. One that made me realize what I'd be putting Al through if I leaped and left him alone again. I couldn't stand to think of others who'd done that same thing; I couldn't desert him myself. Not this time. For once in my life I had to make it right by Al. One way or the other...although as it turned out, it was already out of my hands.

I'd gotten Ziggy to relay a coded message to Gooshie, via my private connection to Ziggy. I only hoped Gooshie remembered that obscure precaution, devised when the Project was still young, one late night when we were over-tired and paranoid.

Al and I borrowed Charlotte's jeep and drove to Escondida, a small tract of houses an exit away from Sorocco on route 25 that was so small it was a wide stretch of the imagination to call it a town. There was an old abandoned house there, destroyed by fire, with a field across the street that implausibly reminded me of Indiana. It was off the beaten track yet close to the Project--just right for our secret meeting.

"Y'know, this isn't a bad place," Al said, looking over the structure that remained. "It could be fixed up."

"Not much land." I walked to the back of the house, where a mini-mountain comprised the back yard. "What if there's a landslide?"

"During monsoon season?" Al asked, coming up behind me and putting his arms around my waist. "Besides, just think what an interesting place it would be to make love, up there..."

"The way we get? We'd fall and break our necks."

"Too true," Al agreed, going over to retrieve his cup of coffee from the jeep.

I sat down on the ground and stared out over the field, waiting. "Think he figured out the message?" I asked.

"We'll know in about five minutes, Gooshie's usually punctual to a fault."

Oddly, the innocuous comment evoked a wave of homesickness in me, and I wanted more than anything to go home and stay there, with Al. See all the friends and colleagues I left behind, be a part of their world again. Pretend I liked Tina's sponge cake with everyone else, complain about the bad coffee in the cafeteria, verbal-spar with Verbena, even smell Gooshie's breath... Life had gone on without me for years. Jokes I hadn't heard, parties I hadn't attended, laughter I hadn't been a part of. Stupid little things, I suddenly missed so much.

"Hey--" Al's arms went around me from behind, hugging me to him. "It'll be okay." I hadn't realized I was crying until his soft voice soothed me.

We stayed like that until Gooshie's car pulled up behind Charlotte's jeep.

Gooshie's car... I suppressed a grin. The sight of Gooshie getting out of an old VW Beetle with a Grateful Dead sticker on the rusted bumper and a peace sign in the window was more than slightly bizarre.

"Gooshie!" Al greeted, walking over to meet him.

"Admiral. Dr. Beckett," he said warmly, extending his hand to me. "Welcome home."

"Hey, Gooshie." Ignoring the hand, I pulled him close for a hug, bad breath and all. "I don't remember you having a VW."

"I got tired of the sports car getting stolen all the time, and decided to fake the little buggers out." He nodded towards the Beetle. "I got rid of the car, but kept the engine. She can go from zero to sixty faster than Al's baby."

"You wish," Al shot back.

"You've got a sports car engine in there?" I asked incredulously, staring at the--front?--rear?--of the bug.

"It was quite a trick, we had to do more than a bit of modifications. It took the Admiral and I almost six months."

"I played old Blood, Sweat, and Tears songs while we worked, 'cause that's what it was," Al remembered.

"Well, I'd love to take a look sometime, but right now we have something serious to discuss."

"Step into our office," Al beckoned to the porch of the house.

Gooshie held up a hand. "Before you say anything, I want to let you know that there's nothing to worry about. Everything at the Project is fine. In fact, we've been waiting for you to get in contact so we could tell you to come on home."

"Whoa, slow down a minute," Al interrupted. "What are you talking about?

"Well, the Navy's not too pleased with you for absconding with Dr. Beckett, but--and this comes from a conversation Ziggy, um, _overheard_ \--they're willing to forget it if you agree to stop fighting your retirement. Otherwise, there are no charges against anyone."

"What about Billings, and the investigation?" I asked.

"You weren't the only ones being investigated, of course. The entire inner staff was under suspicion."

I traded a glance with Al, horrified that we'd left our people to face the fire alone. "I'm sorry, Gooshie, we didn't realize..."

He waved it away. "Adversity is an old friend to the staff of Project Quantum Leap. It just meant we had to scramble to prove our innocence. We demanded a fair chance to defend ourselves, and they granted it. Then we had Ziggy compute our best course of action." Gooshie paused then, glancing at us with a slight nervousness. "We had no choice, and Ziggy took the responsibility. There was no way to check with you first..."

"What did you do?" I asked suspiciously.

"We fixed the Imaging Chamber, and picked a leaper and an observer. By mutual agreement, our side picked the leaper, and the committee chose an impartial observer."

"You're kidding," Al said, not entirely displeased.

Me, I wasn't sure what I was feeling. It was weird, knowing that PQL had been going full speed ahead at Stallion's Gate, without us. What I felt was a mixture of relief and, well, like I'd been left out.

"You mean now there's someone else lost in time out there?" I asked, covering myself with righteous indignation.

Gooshie squirmed a little, but held firm. "He volunteered for the job. Said now that you're back, he knows you'll eventually figure out the retrieval program. Until then, the committee is satisfied that he's really traveling in time, and the funding is secure. There's a ton more paperwork though," he added.

"Gooshie... _who's_ the new leaper?" Al asked, his eyes narrowed like they do when he's suspicious about something.

"Well, it's," Gooshie glanced at me, then back to Al. "Our Chief of Security... Captain Thomas Beckett. He said to tell you...he owed you guys one."

**AL** :

I have to admit, realizing that neither I nor Sam would have to leap to exonerate us left me feeling decidedly weak in the knees. I had faith in him, he'd come up with the retrieval in no time. Sam of course, wasn't at all sure he was too happy about someone else leaping, even if it was his own brother. He'd never admit it, hides it behind concern for others' welfare, but he likes to be in the center of everything. It's hard for him to deal with being on the sidelines.

I figured I could keep him otherwise occupied...

XXX

The Bird of Paradise was upside-down. And moving, rhythmically. Then the colors swam before my eyes and an intense burst of pleasure shot through me. I arched up toward Sam's body, crying out with release...

Later, we lay in the afterglow, sticky, sweaty limbs entwined. Sam lazily contemplated the other Bird of Paradise, the ones in the vase on the table that I'd given him, while I contemplated the unique notion of being happy. I was back in the hotel in Albuquerque, once again a stopping off point before a new chapter in our lives. By tomorrow afternoon we'd be in Washington for the major debriefing, among other things. After that, back to the Project, but our jobs there would be different than they were before. Someone else would carry the load for awhile, just as willingly as we had.

I felt like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders, no, more like several of them. Dead weights that should have been left behind a long time ago. Old loves and old pains, the excess baggage of a lifetime. I shed it like a snake sheds its skin, anxious to begin this new life...with Sam. I didn't have a care in this whole world.

I surveyed the remains of the demolished picture frame--the other flower print, laying on the floor in several mangled pieces.

In the morning, I'd pay the hotel for the destroyed calla lilies picture.

**THE END**

8/4/93


End file.
